If the Morning Star Be Not Shining
by Joelsweet
Summary: Prince Viktor's father keeps him locked away in a tower, completely isolated. He dreams of freedom and escaping his royal life. When he reaches adulthood, his father sends him off to be married to a foreign prince, but Viktor never really was good at doing what he was told... (Goose Girl AU)
1. Chapter 1

Each stroke of the brush sounded like a wave lapping against the sand and then retreating. That's what Viktor pictured, his mind painting the image of the gentle caress of the tide. His mother's voice was always so soothing, like calm seas, even when she was reprimanding him.

"Vitya, your father told me what you did today." Viktor's eyes widened, and he let out a little "eep" sound. His mother chuckled, soft and low. "You know you shouldn't sneak off, my star." Viktor pursed his lips.

"I know." He stared into the flames, watching how its glow flickered golden on his skin.

"Your lessons are very important." Her tone was light, but Viktor knew that she was being serious. He felt guilty, and looked over his shoulder back at her.

"I'm sorry, Mommy." She laughed again, gently guiding his head back so that he was facing forward again.

"It's alright, my star. Please, just remember that you will be tsar someday, and you must be prepared." In his head, Viktor pictured his father. He was so strong and brave, like nothing could get to him. He wanted to be just like him, and so he nodded.

"Hold still, please." His mother was parting his hair into sections so that she could braid it. "All done," she announced as she tied a ribbon on the end. Viktor bounced up, feeling the plait thump against his back. He kneeled on the bed and hugged his mother.

Thank you, Mommy." She smiled, her warm eyes crinkling in the corners, and embraced him back. "Can I do _your_ hair now?" Viktor asked excitedly. His mother raised one eyebrow, and he laughed and laughed. "Pleeease."

"Well, alright." She handed him the brush, then turned around and pushed her hair over her shoulder. It was the same color as Viktor's, silver as a fancy spoon or perhaps the moon. The strands glittered in the firelight. It was very, very long, at her knees when she was standing. When Viktor was all grown up, he wanted his hair to be like that.

He was very careful when he was brushing so that he didn't pull too hard. He stuck out his tongue in concentration as he did the plait. He tried his very best, really, but the end result wasn't nearly as pretty as when his mom did braids. Still, he was proud of the braid, with one section far thinner than the others and loops of hair sticking out at odd angles.

His mother gave him a silky red ribbon, and he tied it in a knot at the bottom of the plait. (He didn't know how to do bows yet.) Smiling at his magnum opus, Viktor slid the braid back over his mother's shoulder.

"Wow!" she exclaimed as she examined it. "You're learning so fast!" Viktor grinned, pleased with himself. His mother turned to face him again and kissed his forehead. "Very good, Vitya." She leaned in closer, as if to tell him a big secret. "It's getting late," she whispered. "It's time for little stars to be heading off to sleep."

"But the stars shine more brightly at night!"

"That is because they are dreaming," Viktor's mother explained with a smile. "They glimmer when they're having lovely dreams."

"What about the morning star?"

"The morning star watches over all the other little stars while they sleep to make sure that they are safe. She waits until all the stars are awake before dimming her guiding light."

"Like a mommy?" Viktor asked, eyes wide. He pictured his mother as the morning star, protecting him from the darkness of the night.

"Precisely."

She stood, and helped Viktor off of the bed. She lit a candle and held the handle of the holder, then extended her hand to him. Viktor took her fingers. They walked down the dimly lit hallways, which would be scary if Viktor's mother wasn't there to protect him. Her light guided the way, the threatening shadows dispersing.

She let go of his hand to open the door, and then took it again as the walked across the floor. She picked him up and laid him down in his bed, tenderly tucking him in.

"I love you, my little star," she told him, then kissed his forehead once more. Viktor hugged her.

"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured into her neck. She released him and smiled.

"Goodnight, have sweet dreams." She left, and the light of her candle faded away. Viktor curled up into his bed, falling into gentle, rhythmic dreams, like the ocean was rocking him back and forth.


	2. Chapter 2

It was dead quiet in the palace. There were no soft, kind words from Viktor's mother. No brush-strokes, like ocean waves lapping on the shore. No longer did the frightening echo of hacking coughs reverberate throughout the hallways of the palace. Even the birds outside the window had stopped chirping.

There were only the hushed, murmuring voices of figures speaking to each other, and the broken sobs of Viktor's father. And then there was Viktor, who didn't fully understand what was happening.

People kept saying that his mother was gone. But she was right there, although her skin was cold and her eyes were closed. She wasn't gone. He tried and tried to wake her up, but she wouldn't open her eyes.

"Mommy, Mommy!" he cried, hugging her limp form tightly. There was no response, no flicker in her eyelids, no rise and fall in her chest. "Mommy, stop it!" he wailed, and a scary doctor with big, rough hands pried him away.

xxxxxxx

Viktor sighed and stared longingly out the window, chin propped up on his hand. Hw he yearned to run through the fields and play in the river! But instead, he was stuck here with an open textbook whose words were blending together and were unintelligible. He simply could not focus after hours of forcing himself to read the dusty old volume.

Viktor rather liked reading, but not when he was being forced to, and not when it was a soporific recount of the history of commerce within the nation. Who would even know if he made an escape? Certainly not his tutor, who was asleep on the sofa and probably would be for hours yet. The lush green hills and woods outside his window were so inviting, as if Mother Nature had her arms spread wide open.

Viktor glanced at his snoring instructor before cautiously standing; the chair was so squeaky that he winced. He crept to the door and peeked out to see that the hallway was deserted, then started practically skipping along it. He hummed as he went, braid swinging behind him.

He reached a rarely-used side exit and then entered it. The maids never cleaned in there; they didn't see a point if it wasn't in use. Huge spiders skittered along the staircase and hung in webs up above. Viktor prayed that none would drop down onto his head. The passage ended with an open doorway, and he hopped down from the last crumbling step and into the light.

Viktor sneezed, and squinted in the brightness as his eyes adjusted. The sky was azure, and the scent of spring filled the air. With a breathless laugh of joy, he flung off his socks and boots and started to run. The wet grass was cool under his bare toes. His braid flew out behind him, and his heart pounded like his feet did as they slapped against the ground. He felt as free as a bird released from its gilded cage.

Viktor entered the trees, the boughs casting dappled shadows nto him as he passed underneath. He slowed down so that the sticks on the ground wouldn't hurt his feet. When he came to the stream, he climbed the maple tree that curved over it and dipped his toes into the icy flow. The water was from snowmelt, and it was still incredibly frigid. He shivered slightly, enjoying the cool sensation and the warmth from the sun streaming down through the trees.

A shadow crossed over him, and he looked up to see a bullfinch landing on a branch of the maple tree. It perched there, cocking its head to the side. Viktor grinned at it, and it chirped down at him. They stared at each other for a second, before the bird stretched out its wings and darted away.

Viktor leaned his head back and laughed, although he wasn't quite sure why. His heart felt as light as a butterfly. Sighing in contentment, he swung his legs.

"Viktor?!" he heard someone call, and he was so startled that he lost his balance and fell into the water. He sat there for a second, dazed. His tailbone hurt tremendously from the impact. His extremities were quickly becoming numb from the freezing water.

Yakov, Viktor's tutor, stormed into view, face scarlet. Viktor beamed up at him innocently.

"Hello!"

"Get up here!" Yakov roared. Teeth chattering, Viktor got to his feet. He rubbed his arms to try and generate some warmth, to no avail.

"F-Fancy seeing you here!" he exclaimed. Yakov looked about to burst in rage.

"Do you think you can just sneak away from your lessons all the time?!"

Viktor shrugged and gave a sheepish grin.

"Wait until an old man falls asleep and then run away," Yakov grumbled, taking Viktor by the ear and dragging him along.

"Ow, ow ow!"

"What if your father had caught you? What would you have done?"

Viktor reflected on this for a moment, finger on his chin. He thought of his father's disapproving eyes.

"Probably fire you for falling asleep while you were supposed to be teaching me," Viktor countered cheerfully. Yakov yanked his ear. "Hey!" He released it once they entered the passage. It took a moment for Viktor's eyes to get used to the dark. They two of them climbed the stairs in silence, until Yakov sighed.

"I know you won't listen to me, but you need to start taking your lessons seriously! You'll be tsar someday, whether you like it or not."

Viktor pouted, irritated.

"What if I don't want to be tsar? What if I want to be a scribe?"

Yakov laughed dryly. "You'd be miserable as a scribe."

Viktor had to admit that he had a point.

"What about tending to animals or something?"

Yakov scoffed. "You wouldn't last a day."

Viktor frowned slightly. Yakov always underestimated him.

They finished ascending the stairs and exited into the hall. Suddenly, Yakov froze. Viktor warily shifted his gaze in the direction Yakov was looking, and his heart nearly stopped. There stood his father, with his arms folded ashe coldly stared down at them. Viktor could feel his eyes sweeping over him, taking in the soaking clothes, wet hair, flushed face, and missing shoes.

The harsh lines on the tsar's weathered face hardened.

"Went for a swim, did we?"

Viktor laughed nervously, and Yakov glared at him.

We were just learning about the great flooding of '47!" Viktor flimsily excused. Is father quirked an eyebrow.

"'49."

Viktor gulped, giving his best guiltless face.

"Right."

"Hm." His father's eyes slid over to Yakov. "Might I remind you that it would be no trouble to find a replacement for you," he threatened smoothly. Yakov set his jaw. "And you," the tsar directed his attention towards Viktor. "The next time you try and avoid your responsibilities, I'll lock you up so that you can't. You're fourteen, one would assume that you would have learned some self-discipline by now."

Fear pumped through Viktor's veins. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be confined somewhere, not being able to go outside and being nearly completely alone. It would drive him insane.

"And no dinner for you tonight."

Viktor bowed his head. "Yes, father."

With a wry, cruel half-smile, the tsar finished with, "That's better," then whirled around and strode off.

Viktor's shoulders sagged the second he was one, his heart still racing.

(If you want me to continue or have any suggestions, please let me know lol)


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